I picked up 'In the Garden of Beasts' thinking it would be a straightforward historical account of pre-war Berlin, but it's so much more intimate than that. It follows the American ambassador to Germany, William E. Dodd, and particularly his daughter Martha, as they navigate the rising tension of 1933-1937. The 'plot,' such as it is for nonfiction, traces their initial naivete and fascination with the Nazi elite—Martha even had relationships with several high-ranking officials—toward a dawning, horrific comprehension of the regime's true nature.
What struck me hardest wasn't the big political meetings, but the slow accretion of everyday horrors Dodd witnesses: the casual violence in the streets, the suffocating propaganda, the sheer moral cowardice of the diplomatic corps that preferred appeasement. The garden of the title is Berlin's Tiergarten, but it becomes this ironic symbol of a society that's beautiful on the surface but rotting underneath. The book makes you feel the claustrophobia of watching a catastrophe unfold in slow motion, while most people, even those in power, convince themselves it's not that bad.
I kept thinking about Martha's diary entries, her social whirl, and how her personal disillusionment mirrors the larger failure of the world to act. Larson's genius is in making you a companion to their unsettling education.